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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845180">A Constant Masquerade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>AU - Fandom, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft Youtubers, Sapnap - Fandom, dream - Fandom, dreamnotfound - Fandom, georgewastaken - Fandom, mcyt, youtube - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Smut, M/M, slowburn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When George got into Sapnap’s car at the Houston Airport, he was expecting a normal road trip with his best friends. Long drives, good songs on the radio, and tacky tourist attractions. He wasn’t expecting to spend his summer solving a murder that plagued the Florida state- and unraveling a mystery his friend had kept hidden from him for so long. But life is full of surprises.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello!<br/>This is my first time posting a fanfic, I normally just write so my brain can wonder- but after some persuasion, I’ve decided to post my story! I hope you enjoy it! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>His eyes glanced over the message, trying his best to skim and multitask. Currently he was trying not to get his ass handed to him by a blaze.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“...I made an edit of you and dream, and it’s on YouTube called Isle of Dream...” He read, finishing with an “Alright!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The mouse clicked idly while he thanked the donator, but his cheerful gratitude speech was interrupted by laughter.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What?” George asked, smiling as he continued to collect blaze rods.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dream made an attempt to stifle his kettle-wheeze, but he ended up speaking through his cackling.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I love dream!” He managed through giggles.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A loud telephone ring jolted him awake, bumping his head on the back of the car seat- knocking his sunglasses onto his lap.</p>
<p>Nick snorted as he kept his gaze on the barren road ahead. “Could you answer that for me?”</p>
<p>“Mm-hm...”<br/>George sleepily plucked the phone from the cup-holder that separated the front seats of Sapnap’s car.</p>
<p>He was nice enough to pick George up at the Huston airport, and drive them down to Florida for their long anticipated real-life meeting.</p>
<p>They must have been on the road for some time now, it was really dark. He let his eyes focus on the GPS in the car. 3:30 am. 4 hours until they reached their destination.</p>
<p>The pad of his thumb hit the green button on Nicks iPhone, and a familiar voice suddenly filled the car.</p>
<p>“Oh my god - GUYS!”</p>
<p>George flinched as Dream screamed into his phone, and Nick did his best not to swerve the car.</p>
<p>“Dude— It’s four in the morning, Dream. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”</p>
<p>Nick furrowed his brow as his eyes glanced at the GPS, then back on the road. He opened his mouth to speak again but was quickly interrupted by the caller once more.</p>
<p>“There’s... kind of been a change of plans- I need you to pick me up at a different spot. It’s not too far away from my house, so you should be fine.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” George yawned, preparing to plug in the new location. “Where do you need us to pick you up?”</p>
<p>“The police station.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain pattered on the hood of Nicks car as they pulled up to the station. You couldn’t tell the time just by looking outside- a storm had rolled in and blanked the sky with its dark clouds.</p>
<p>The police station was fairly lively for the hour, people walking up and down the concrete stairs, cops chatting one another up as their coffee released steam into the air.</p>
<p>Sapnap stepped outside his car, and opened the door for George. The two sloshed through some puddles and carefully walked their way up the wet concrete stairs.</p>
<p>The door opened with a bitter blast of air conditioning on their wet clothes. The blast of AC only made George feel worse. He was already sick to his stomach with anxiety, and this jolt of a freezing sensation didn’t calm his nerves.</p>
<p>What would Dream be arrested for? He didn’t seem like the violent type, but he did remember the story of how he almost got tased.</p>
<p>George was finally able to put a name to a face when his eyes adjusted to the bright fluorescent lights. He immediately knew the face of his best friend that he had spoken to all of these years.</p>
<p>The figure was casually slumped against the metal chair he sat on. His shackled hands sat in his lap- and that’s when George noticed his jeans. The black denim was spattered in paint stains, and torn to reveal a gnarly gash on his knee. His pants were further decorated with a chain of some sort.</p>
<p>He wore a green varsity jacket of some kind, it seemed to be weathered and paint-stained as well.</p>
<p>Long, messy, dirty blonde hair looked to be hastily tied up in some kind of ponytail framed his tan, freckled face.</p>
<p>The delinquent turned, and his green eyes seemed to fill with joy as a smile faintly appeared on his face.</p>
<p>Heavy rain beat against the roof of the police station, and without warning, the sky let out a deep, rumbling thunder.</p>
<p>Florescent lights dimmed before blinking in and out dramatically. When they finally managed to turn back on, George’s gaze had settled on what was placed next to dream.</p>
<p>Leaning on the chair was a rather hefty backpack, not surprisingly splattered with paint. It fit his whole aesthetic very well, aside from one thing.</p>
<p>Hanging from the strap was a...mask. It was something he had seen before- In fact, it was rather familiar.</p>
<p>A white circle with two dotted eyes and a curved smile, seemingly innocent enough. Oddly, it didn’t have a single paint stain. The porcelain it was made out of appeared to be squeaky clean, or well taken care of.</p>
<p>When the lights flicked once more, he could have sworn he saw it...wink..?</p>
<p>He gave it no further thought after chalking it up to his imagination, and Sapnap tapped his shoulder.</p>
<p>“I’m going to talk to the cop, and ask how much longer it’ll be till we can take him.”</p>
<p>The police station had a receptionist, and an open walkway that seemed traversed mainly by cops. The separation was by a little iron fence with a gate- Nick spoke to the receptionist who opened it for them.</p>
<p>There was a handful of police officers at desks, some doing paperwork, some on phones.</p>
<p>Nick was chatting up the officer that had the last name of “Parker”, he could see it on his badge. There was a nameplate on the police desk next to dream, it read “Parker” as well. Hopefully Sap could get Dream out of this mess.</p>
<p>Dream was sitting nonchalantly on an uncomfortable looking metal chair that was butted up against the desk. On the desk sat a few cans of spray paint, that where probably empty.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Oh Geooorge~!” </em>
</p>
<p>The arrested man chuckled as George dragged a spare chair across the tile floor with an uncomfortably loud squeak. None of the cops seemed to bat an eye.</p>
<p>He sat down, and immediately began anxiously bouncing his leg up and down.</p>
<p>“What the hell, dude?!”<br/>George’s accent was uncomfortably obvious, standing out from the Floridian panhandle most of the buildings occupants had.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George’s hushed scream-whisper was rendered useless by Dreams laugh, which drew a few glances from some of the officers.</p>
<p>“Isn’t it obvious?” He asked, gesturing towards the empty paint cans. The handcuffs rattled, almost as if they were angry about being moved.</p>
<p>“I don’t see it as graffiti- it’s more like decoration. An art. I would have gotten away with it if I didn’t drop my paint.”</p>
<p>George rolled his eyes.<br/>“I expected to meet you at your house, or in a Pizza Hut parking lot- not in a police station!”</p>
<p>“I’m full of surprises,” Dream winked, and George would have punched him if he wasn’t about to piss his pants.</p>
<p>He opted for verbally assaulting him, but thankfully he was interrupted by “Parker” walking up to his desk. Nick followed suit with a very worried look on his face.</p>
<p>Almost routinely, Dream stood and offered the cuffs to the officer, who took a key from his pocket and unlocked the shackles.</p>
<p>“This is a repeat offense, Clay.” Officer Parker had a certain tiredness to his drawl. “Because of that you’ll be fined at a much higher price. Now, I-“</p>
<p>Very loudly, the walkie-talky on his utility belt crackled into life. In a matter of seconds, each and every communication device in the room awoke with a static hiss.</p>
<p>Then, words emerged from the sound- and every single electronic on the radio frequency spoke in unison, sounding like a choir of the same frightened voice.</p>
<p>
  <strong>“187 ON THE CORNER OF WILLIAMS AND HOLT - ALL AVAILABLE OFFICERS RESPOND IMMEDIATELY”</strong>
</p>
<p>Parker had lost all of his color as several officers sprung from their chairs sprinted towards the closest door. He slammed his chair into his desk and scowled at the guilty man.</p>
<p>“If I catch you again, you’re headed to the clink!” He spat, and ran towards the entryway.</p>
<p>And in a matter of moments, the police station was near empty. Most of the officers had filtered out the exits, and the ones who remained had their noses buried in paperwork.</p>
<p>“What...the fuck...”<br/>Sapnap uttered, him and George turned to Dream for some kind of answer.</p>
<p>Dream slung his backpack over his shoulder, and sauntered towards the entrance that now was eerily empty.</p>
<p>“You guys hungry? I know a KFC that’s is still open.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George had never seen someone eat an entire 16 piece bucket of chicken tenders so fast. That meal could have easily fed a family of four.</p>
<p>“Don’t get grease in my seats,” Sapnap huffed as he shot Dream a look through his rear-view mirror.</p>
<p>“I’m nooot,” Dream huffed, wiping his hands on his already dirty jeans.</p>
<p>Dream’s backpack sat next to him, almost like it was a passenger as well. That creepy porcelain mask stared at George- or at least... it felt like it was staring.</p>
<p>George sighed and tried to ignore it’s stupid little drawn-on eyes, and turned to Dream.</p>
<p>“Do you know what happened at the station? Why’d they let you go?”</p>
<p>He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair with a huff.<br/>“Don’t know, don’t care. Nick, how much farther is the hotel?”</p>
<p>“Half an hour.”</p>
<p>“Urgh,”</p>
<p>“Is it a crime to piss in a hotel bed?” George asked, grinning wildly as he typed something into his phone.</p>
<p>“Piss baby. Arrested for piss crimes.”</p>
<p>The three of them teased one another as the car drove through an early morning thunderstorm. According to Dream, Florida thunderstorms were a near-daily occurrence.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Report</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“BREAKING NEWS!”</p><p>The rain was still pattering away at the window, but the small hotel issued oscillating fan was drowned out by the TV. The hotel's television had its volume up, as soon as it crackled to life it made sure to scream, waking everyone up. </p><p>George sat up immediately, as he woke up with a comical, startled yell. He cleared his throat, realizing there was no immediate danger, and sunk into the stale-smelling suede couch. He turned to his right, expecting Sapnap to poke fun at him for his dramatic reaction.</p><p>Nick drowsily grumbled before yawning, rolling over in the bed to get a good view of the television. It was clear he would have taken a stab at George if he was properly awake, but he needed at least one cup of coffee before he could start spitting some proper insults. </p><p>George looked down at the floor to see Dream, sitting at the foot of the single queen bed in the room. He was hunched over, gently gnawing on the inside of his lip. His painted fingernails drummed rhythmically on the small television remote, allowing all of the focus to be on the irregularly scheduled programming. </p><p>George wanted to scold Dream for waking him up- he had a bad case of jet lag and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep. But his eyes got caught on the television. He saw the reporter, very tired... but also extremely anxious. </p><p>There was a sense of professionalism a reporter needed to be broadcasted, someone with a stern look who could ask interesting questions. Lots of determined faces, both men and women, appeared on the news report a situation. But this was the first time George had ever seen a reporter legitimately unnerved by the content he was about to present. </p><p>“... now turning over to Victor Sullivan for coverage from the scene. Sullivan?”</p><p>The camera transitioned to another middle-aged reporter, who also looked very tired. The bags under his eyes were visible as he shivered under a company-issued raincoat that seemed one size too large.  Despite the reporters visibly exhausted condition, he seemed shaken by the scene behind him. The anxiety gave him the boost he needed to stay awake. </p><p>The microphone he was holding was trembling- the man shivered and struggled to keep the mic in his hands. The recorder picked up the sound of pattering rain on the cement, further setting the scene as a dark and scary night. After a moment of collecting himself, he spoke. </p><p>“Thank you, Daniel. I am reporting from the corner of Williams Street and Holt Avenue, but some could mistake it for a scene from a horror film.”</p><p>The camera shifted its attention to the scene behind the reporter. It focused, and after a moment it finally put together a clean, properly focused picture. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that a crime was committed. The first sign of trouble was the yellow caution tape surrounding the scene, dripping with rainwater. The camera zoomed in closer, revealing a large mass with a blue tarp draped over it. Not only was the surrounding grass damp with rainwater- it was stained with blood as well. </p><p>Yellow evidence tags occasionally poked up from the ground- they seemed to be alerting the police of the shredded items of clothing thrown around the scene. It looked as if a dog had torn open a stuffed animal, and in shaking its head, handfuls of stuffing flew out of the toy and landed gracefully on the ground like snow. </p><p>“The town is in shock today. Residents did not expect to look out their window this nice Saturday morning to see what appears to be another vicious attack. Earlier today I got to speak to the person who called in the body.”</p><p>A scene change, a shaken young woman in running gear spoke- she was trembling so much you could have mistaken her movements like vibrations.</p><p>“I saw it! I was out for a run with my dog- and I just saw this guy- h-he...it was like a bear came up and clawed his guts out! I called the cops- next thing you know- there’s 30 of em!”</p><p>“This is the fourth attack of this nature within the past six months. The word floating around here is that this is the work of a serial killer or something of the sort. Internet theorists and journalists alike have given the killer a name- the  Tallahassee Terrorizer. Back to you, Don.”</p><p>The image of the tired, soaking wet news reporter faded, and the attention was back onto the news anchor. He swallowed, summoning some courage before speaking to the camera again. </p><p>“Thanks, Sullivan. The police have stated that they have their best detectives on the scene. And we are all praying that it is the last case caused by the Sunshine State Slaughterer. Remember, if you see any suspicious activity, don’t hesitate to call the police. This is been Daniel DePolo, signing off.”</p><p>“Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.”</p><p>The TV remote made a small click as the “off” button was pressed, and the room was immediately filled with silence. Completely silent except for the drizzle battering against the window, but eventually Nick cut through the thick awkward tension by speaking. </p><p> “...gator state galvanizer...”</p><p>Dream took a second to process his attempt to humor them and chuckled softly. He set the remote down next to him before turning to his friends.<br/>
“That’s a good one, Sap.”</p><p>“You...you guys are just going to ignore the fact that someone was fucking mauled to death?!” George’s voice cracked with anxiety, and in any other situation, he would be embarrassed about it. But he had too much on his mind right now, and poking fun at the problem was the last thing on his to-do list. </p><p>“It’s not like there’s anything we can do about it, George. Besides, we have a hardened graffiti criminal to protect us from any murderers.” He pointed to Dream, who seemed out of the conversation for the moment. Wherever his mind had taken him, his eyes had fallen on his paint-stained backpack across the hotel room. </p><p>Nick cleared his throat, and Dream blinked- summoning his consciousness back into the present conversation.<br/>
“You’re talkin’ to the Minecraft speed-runner champion, George. That puts me at the top of the food chain.”</p><p>George let out a pity chuckle, not believing what his friends had to say. He was all for making jokes, but this time... he just felt guilty about it. Someone died and they were smiling, cracking jokes! Everyone has their way of coping with stress, but this hit too close to home. He wasn’t comfortable joking about it yet. </p><p> </p><p>The remainder of their day was filled with long car rides and various hotspots around the north side of Florida. Old tourist attractions, bad haunted houses, and weird gift shops. </p><p>Nick had fallen asleep, sprawled over all three of the back passenger seats. Rain gently pattered on the roof of the car as Dream drove down what appeared to be a never-ending stretch of highway. </p><p>George let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes, looking at Dream sleepily.<br/>
“Is it alright if I sleep here tonight? I don’t think Sap is going to be moving.”</p><p>Dream chuckled and nodded.<br/>
“Go ahead, I like driving in the night. Gives me a chance to clear my head.”</p><p>George furrowed his brow. “Is something on your mind, Dream?”</p><p>Dream's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead of him, and George tried his best to decode his stoic expression. </p><p>“Mm,” Dream broke the silence after a few moments. “Nothing you should worry about. Get some rest, we’re going to the place where they made Coke, I think.”</p><p>George sighed before nodding and resting his head on the car window- and he was quickly asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. One-Eight-Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We should try to make it quick.” George glanced back at the car, his eyes remaining on Clay passed out over the steering wheel for a moment before flicking up to the early morning sky. The sun had barely pulled itself above the horizon, and a few weak rays of sunlight filtered in through the trees. Everything still looked dull and monochrome, save the pale blue that hovered just over the sun. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Nick stretched after he stepped out of the passenger’s seat, arching his back slightly, “I don’t know how far this museum or whatever is.”</p>
<p>The car door shut with a slam, and George crunched the greasy KFC bucket with his hands before throwing it out. After it made a sad little sound of impact on the plastic garbage can and fell in, Nick’s eyes flicked up to the red and black sign of the gas station the trio had stopped at. Unlike the motel they stayed at the previous night, this building was methodical and neatly organized. Like a carbon copy of a thousand gas stations he’d seen before, all with the same layout and selection and color scheme. </p>
<p>He greeted the cashier with a friendly smile before making a beeline for the coffee pot. George laughed, as the coffee pot seemed to be the only thing Nick was aware of in the entire store, despite its unassuming position - just sitting in the left corner illuminated by a pale wash of fluorescent light. The array of wrappers facing the coffee was what drew in George, and he followed his friend further into the petrol station. </p>
<p>George looked over the candy selection, several foreign labels winking up at him before he decided to speak. “Hey... Nick... can I ask you a question?” He glanced over at the cashier to assure they didn’t have an audience, but the cashier - a guy their age with dark hair and earbuds - couldn’t seem to care less. </p>
<p>Sapnap yawned a bit as he poured some coffee into a styrofoam cup. “Wanna tell me a secret?” He grinned, browsing the sugar and creamer selection, before picking up a pink sugar packet and ripping it open with his teeth. “You probably wanna make out with Dream.” He snickered slightly as he dumped the contents into his coffee. </p>
<p>“Sap- no! I- just...” After taking a sip of his drink, Nick saw how George’s features were twisted into a candid expression of anxiety and were almost guilty that he hadn’t noticed it before. “I’m just freaked out by this... Sunshine State- Miami...”</p>
<p>“Gator state galvanizer?” Nick offered, attempting to diffuse the tension with a little bit of comedy.<br/>
It didn’t seem to work as he avoided eye contact whilst staring at the ancient-looking gas station doughnuts. </p>
<p>“It’s a little... weird that we pick Dream up from the police station- and then all of those cops said something about 187. I looked it up.”<br/>
George had a Wikipedia article open, called 
<em>“187 (slang)”...</em>

<em>“Section 187 (often referenced in slang simply as 187) of the California Penal Code defines the crime of murder.” </em>

</p><p>“Do you think they all left in a hurry to find that body?”</p>
<p>Sapnaps expression simply spoke for him, ‘It's too early for this’. Nonetheless, he attempted to reason with his friend.<br/>
“All of those things were in Florida, right? We’re in Georgia now, so I think we’re fine.”</p>
<p>Nick took another sip of his coffee as he walked out of the gas station, pausing for a moment to look at the vermillion hue that painted itself as a herald of the new day. Veiled in scarlet, the storefront somehow looked both hellish and heavenly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you want a cof- holy shit, dude?”<br/>
Nick slid into the passenger side seat, his brow furrowing. “You look like hell.”</p>
<p>Dream looked pale. A little too pale for his friends liking.<br/>
Wordlessly he nodded, the pads of his fingers pressed against his temples. He didn’t look in pain, more... focused? He was concentrating hard on something.<br/>
“I’m fine. Just a headache.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I should drive for a little while? You could use some sleep, and the museum isn’t that far away.”</p>
<p>“Actually,” Dream stiffened. “I think we’re going to have to make a little detour.” </p>
<p>“Dude, it’s my car! You kind of have to tell me where you’re driving!”<br/>
Nick raised his voice over the sound of the engine’s sudden roar as it hastily took a turn down a beaten path. The sudden acceleration pressed everyone into their seats. </p>
<p>His eyes were fixed on the road, completely still and unmoving. No matter how much the passengers protested, Dream seemed hellbent on getting to the undisclosed location.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Crash And Burn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>”What... THE FUCK! We could have DIED! Or HIT something! Seriously C-”<br/>
Dream smacked his hand over Nicks's mouth and unbuckled his seatbelt, awkwardly pulling the backpack out from under his dirty checkered Vans. </p><p>But George noticed that he only took a single item from his possessions- that godforsaken mask with its creepy ass smile. </p><p>Nick swatted Dream’s hand away from his face and froze for a brief moment as the driver positioned the mask on the side of his face. </p><p>“Wait,” George protested. “What are you-“</p><p>The gas pedal slammed to the floor of the car. As the speed grew, the engine roared with the sudden acceleration.</p><p> </p><p>A sharp right turn, and a loud crunch. </p><p>...</p><p>George...</p><p>“...George!”</p><p>George opened his eyes to see a very concerned Nick hovering over him, who appeared to calm down when George woke up. </p><p>“Oh my god,” he sighed, backing away and running a hand through his hair. </p><p>George felt like he had just been violently tossed around a very jarring rollercoaster, but with less amusement and more anxiety. </p><p>“What happened..?” He asked Nick and examined his surroundings.</p><p>“Dream flipped my car, and ran like a bat out of hell.”</p><p>It took George a moment to decode his lingo, but there wasn’t much that needed to be said. The scene spoke for itself. </p><p>All of the car windows were cracked, if not completely shattered. The car's interior looked a little worse for wear, and Dream's backpack was open and semi-dumped into the front car area. </p><p>Aside from feeling like he got the wind kicked out of him, and a few bumps and bruises. George was in one piece and so was Nick, besides a small cut on his lip that was bleeding. </p><p>Nick’s face contorted for a moment, “Wait, what’s that smell?” </p><p>George scrunched his nose as the odor hit him. Then his eyes widened as he stole a glance at Nick, who was busy covering his nose with his sleeve. </p><p>“Get out, get out!” He screamed, frantically grasping for his seatbelt. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“IT’S GAS, YOU TWAT! THIS THING’S GONNA FUCKING BLOW!”</p><p>Nick practically leaped out of the car, and George followed suit, ripping his seatbelt off and wrenching the door open. They both ignored Clay’s belongings, which remained scattered on the floor, somehow not </p><p>“Well...” he paused, his gaze resting on the car. “What now?”</p><p>The two stood there for a moment, staring down the vehicle. Nick looked to George for some kind of answer and got an ‘I dunno’ shrug as a response. </p><p>Almost prophetically, the headlights of Nick’s car flickered on feebly, casting an unsteady beam of light between the two that settled upon something several yards away. A brick mailbox. Inlaid near the top in some cheap, reflective metal, the numbers 27631 winked at the pair, almost daring them. George squinted, but couldn’t see beyond the cracked driveway that snaked into a thick patch of forestry and vanished. </p><p>“This is some horror movie shit,” Nick muttered, casting a forlorn glance at his wrecked car. To say it had seen better days was an understatement. Shards of the broken windows decorated the ground, occasionally glinting from the moonlight that filtered through the trees above. Attempting to use it for shelter was fruitless, considering that it was flipped several times and could catch aflame. The stench of gas was still prominent, hanging in the air like a dense wreath of smoke. </p><p>George glanced up at the sky just in time to see a bolt of lightning strike down from the mass of darkening clouds that loomed ominously over the horizon. </p><p>“That’s-”</p><p>He was cut off by the deafening clap of thunder that seemed to shake the forest. Nick’s car’s headlights went out as the car gave a final shudder, but the silhouette of the mailbox remained, staring. The two looked at it, and then each other. </p><p>“Motherfucker.” </p><p>George sighed, his gaze sliding back to the brick column. A mailbox meant a house, and a house meant safety. </p><p>“It’s our only option.” </p><p>...</p><p>“Isn’t this breaking and entering?"<br/>
George asked- almost shouting over the sound of the rain on the tin roof.<br/>
The house looked like it needed to be gutted and cleaned, but it was sheltered from the pouring rain. That was all they needed at the moment. </p><p>Nick grunted as he lifted the window and locked it into place. He gave George a scoff and clambered through. Any bystander would mistake them for criminals, but it’s not like there was anyone around to witness these unwelcome house guests.<br/>
“I don’t think anyone’s been in here for... a few years,” he estimated as he slid his vans off- the mud-caked shoes squeaking on the dusty wood floor.</p><p>George closed the window behind him and shivered, not too keen on the idea of busting into an old vacation home in the middle of nowhere- but it’s not like they had any choices.  Besides, this didn’t smell like gas. </p><p>The light switch made a repetitive clicking sound before Sapnap sighed, then looked over to the fireplace. </p><p>“Help me find some matches.”</p><p>The moonlight was dim and dreary, but it was barely enough to see what the contents of the junk drawers were as they emptied them on the kitchen table. </p><p>George squinted as he tried to read what appeared to be some kind of grocery list crumpled and tossed into the junk pile when he was interrupted by a joyful cheer. </p><p>Nick tossed a match into the fireplace and laughed triumphantly as the room filled with light. </p><p>That's when they could see the building they had broken into. It was a cozy little one-room cabin, with a kitchen and a humble living room with a coffee table and what appeared to be a sofa that unfolded into a bed. The small fireplace had a rug in front of it, really tying the quaint cottage together. </p><p>While George got warm by the fire, Sap opened the fridge, grabbed something, and sat down next to his friend by the fire. </p><p>A room temperature vodka bottle slid into George’s hands, and he raised his eyebrows with a surprised chuckle. “Lucky find,” he said, looking for an expiration date. After a moment he paused and gave Nick a skeptical look. </p><p>“You’re not old enough to drink!”</p><p>He rolled his eyes and popped off the bottle cap. “I’m almost 20, and it’s legal to drink at my age where you’re from.”</p><p>“I guess I can’t beat that logic,”<br/>
He smirked as they clinked their bottles in very unflattering cheers, and drank.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think he’s okay..?”<br/>
They both stared at the metal ceiling for a moment, fiddling with their empty bottles. </p><p>The two of them looked like they were attending a sleepover. Laying on the cold, dusty wooden floor of the living room while the fireplace provided warmth and light. Except, unlike most 12-year-old girls at a sleepover, they were drunk.</p><p>“I wouldn’t worry about him, he’s a Florida man. He wrestles alligators in his free time when he isn’t on his computer.” Nick said, getting his ring finger unstuck from the interior of the beer bottle.</p><p>“I just- why would he go all crazy so suddenly..? He’s normally so...collected. I’m worried about him. It’s raining cats and dogs- what if he slips or something? I-“</p><p>“Hey.” Sapnap interrupted, stopping his train of thought. “Believe me. He’s going to be fine, he’s tough.”</p><p>George looked over at his friend and saw that his brown eyes were serious. No jokes or gags- he truly believed that Dream was going to be fine. </p><p>He softened, feeling better. “Yeah, he is tough,” George added quietly, focusing his attention back on the tin roof.</p><p>Nick caught a glance of the small grin on George’s face but didn’t want to mention it.</p><p>Drifting off to the sound of rain beating against the cabin like a soft drum was quickly stripped from the pair, as a loud ‘thunk’ jarred then both awake. </p><p>“Uhh.. what the fuck was that?”<br/>
Nick asked, sitting up and George did the same, pulling his knees to his chest. </p><p>“Maybe a tree branch fell onto the roof..?” George proposed, but that theory was quickly thrown out the window when a very loud “ka-thunk” sound was accompanied by a dent in the ceiling. It rolled off the roof, and out the window, they saw the battered corpse of a full-grown deer. </p><p>George screamed, and Nick quickly grabbed onto him.<br/>
“Hey- HEY! Calm down! It’s okay!”</p><p>“How the FUCK IS IT OKAY?!? LOOK AT THAT DEER! SOMEONE ATE ITS GUTS AND THREW IT ON THE ROOF!”</p><p>George had every right to think that, because its entrails seemed to be seething out of the animal corpse like it was cut open. The visible innards appeared to be...chewed.</p><p>“Maybe it’s Santa-“</p><p>“Santa MY ASS!” George spat, gripping tight to his hair with an anxious sob. </p><p>Sapnap saw how riled up George was and brought him in for a hug. That seemed to calm him down, and once he let go he chuckled.<br/>
“Feeling pogchamp?”</p><p>George wheezed and shoved Nick playfully, sniffling and wiping his eyes. The gleeful moment was quickly stalled when the light from the fire immediately went out. Mentally, he found himself in the police station, seeing Dream sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair like he owned the place. The lights flickered, and he saw that mask. </p><p>Unlike the station, the fire recovered back to its previous illuminating state- except this time the room was different. </p><p>The two of them stood completely still, both painfully aware of the alien presence in the cabin. Someone else was here. </p><p>Some<em>thing</em> else was there. </p><p>George watched as Nick quickly scanned the immediate proximity for a weapon of sorts, then his eyes caught on something. Next to the fire sat some lighter fluid, which Nick hastily grabbed- keeping his eyes glued to something behind him. </p><p>That’s when he felt a warm exhale against the small of his neck. He didn’t have a lot of time to think about before... </p><p>
  <em>“DUCK!”</em>
</p><p>Sapnap grabbed hold of George’s collar and yanked him towards the floor, throwing the lighter fluid container at the being behind him. As they stumbled away- the thing let out an ear-splitting scream.</p><p>As George fell into Nick, he finally got a good look at whatever had made that horrible shout. </p><p>It was covered in mud and now stunk with the stench of lighter fluid. The creature wiped at its face with what George thought were claws- but once the light from the fireplace illuminated the scene, he saw that he was incorrect. </p><p>This long, tall monster had human hands...for the most part. At the final joint of the finger, the tips became white and sharpened into a point. When it pulled its hands away from its face- they were met with a gruesome surprise. </p><p>George felt tears welling up in his eyes- and his voice cracked with a mixture of fear and sorrow. His friend's face looked distorted, the sides of his mouth pulled into a painful-looking smile. Sharp teeth perturbed from his gums, proving that this man was a carnivorous predator. </p><p>But strapped to the side of his head was that god-forsaken, porcelain mask. </p><p>Dream lunged at the pair, and Nick hit the floor with a loud crash. Unbeknownst to Dream, Nick had a handful of matches, that when he struck the floor and impulsively opened his palm to break his fall, one of them managed to catch aflame.</p><p>Nick screamed in agonizing pain before the flames seemed to swallow a large portion of the scene, sending George backward into a corner of the cabin. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe, it was like his lungs decided that they wanted George to become extremely aware of every molecule of smoke that entered them. It hurt to breathe, and his chest began to ache dryly, begging him for some air. </p><p>He didn’t have that choice available to him at the moment. The exits were aflame, taunting him with the way of escape but he was unable to reach that goal. </p><p>There was nowhere else to turn, and he quickly found himself slumped against a corner of the small cabin while the flames encircled him like a pack of hungry wolves. And he was their prey, weak and vulnerable. </p><p>The smoke stung his eyes, making them water. His tears dripped off of his cheeks and onto his sweat-soaked shirt. He coughed, realizing how hard it was to get any air in. </p><p>Collapsing to the floor, he held himself as he trembled. This was the end, he was going to be burnt alive. He could picture the headline;</p><p>Two men found in an abandoned cabin, Miami Mauler suspected.</p><p>He curled up around himself in a fetal like position and prepared for suffocation. </p><p>Rubble crumbled from the ceiling, coming down onto the floor with a loud crash. He could sense that something was moving amongst the flames. </p><p>“GEORGE!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I also posted this to Wattpad, where you can see the title that I drew! Check it out if you can! :)</p>
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